Birthday Wishes
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: What do you get for the Terran that has everything? *post-movie, two-shot, hints of Peter/Gamora*
1. Present

_**Author's Note: **__Still madly in love with this movie. So, be prepared for a lot more one-shots in the future. This one came to me after listening to the soundtrack. Set post-movie with no knowledge of the comics. Enjoy!_

* * *

"_And I knew if I had my chance_

_That I could make those people dance."_

—_Don McLean, "American Pie"_

* * *

Gamora is on the verge of having a splitting headache.

"Look, we take Friday off and then we can—"

"Quill, this guy will pay us a shit-ton of units if we deliver it on Friday." Rocket hisses.

They've agreed to use Terran methods of telling time, if only for the fact that Peter wouldn't be able to learn the more complicated forms of how time works. Gamora, for instance, measured time based on the setting of the three moons that surrounded the planet Thanos occupied.

"I am Groot." The tree chirps from its pot on the small coffee table.

"We could definitely buy one of those, Groot, but only if we get the job done by Friday!"

Peter, Drax and Rocket are all discussing—yelling, really—what their next mission to be and she's just about ready to turn around and silence them herself when Peter mentions it.

"It's my birthday on Friday, okay?" He tells the group and they fall silent. "That's why I wanted the time off."

There's a pause.

"Birthday?" She echoes, unsure of what to say now.

"Yeah." Peter mumbles, running a hand through his hair and awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I . . . usually take that day off." Grief flashes in his eyes for the briefest of seconds, then he quickly schools his expression, plastering a jovial grin on his lips. "But if you guys really want to—"

"No." Drax interjects. "We must celebrate the date of your birth!" He rises from his seat and heartily claps Peter on his back. "It's been quite a long time since I've attended a celebration!"

"Celebration?" Peter mumbles, seemingly confused. Realization dawns in his eyes suddenly. "No! No, I mean, there won't be a party or anything—"

"I am Groot!" The tree protests, frowning and waving his branches quite adamantly.

"Of course there will be a party, Groot." Rocket replies, shaking his head in disbelief at Peter's adamant refusal. "What kind of team would we be if we didn't have one?"

"Guys, really, a party isn't the best idea—" Peter protests, but it becomes clear to Gamora that the rest of the team is set on having one and his refusals are ignored.

"Come!" Drax booms, leading Peter towards the other room. "Explain to us what you would want in your celebration!"

"Guys, no, remember the last time we went to a party you guys nearly killed—"

"I am Groot!"

"He did have it coming, Groot!" Rocket exclaims.

The rest of the team leaves, their voices echoing down the hall and Gamora remains, her gaze downcast. She'd never celebrate a birthday before, not since Thanos had taken her and truth be told, she is quite rusty on what exactly you did when it was someone's birthday. The closest thing she'd received as a present was the distinction of being allowed to torture one of the Nova Corps Lieutenants while Thanos observed her break the spirit of the man. He'd praised her that day—that was the moment she understood why she was called "Lady Gamora" and why the others under Thanos commanded bowed to her.

"You'll go far, Gamora." Thanos had told her, a rare smile tugging on his lips. He faced the bloody body of the Lieutenant and laughed at the man's weakened state. "All of the intel obtained in less than half an hour." He placed a freezing hand on her shoulder. "Good work, Gamora."

She never told anyone, but that man's screams still haunted her to this day. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't think of his family, of the life she had so cruelly taken him from.

Drax had been right—she'd been a monster.

But she has a chance now, to help make things right. With her team, she can slowly atone for all the sins she had committed. With each day that went by, the guilt lessened slowly until the burden on her shoulders felt the tiniest bit lighter.

Still . . . birthdays?

What did you get a Terran that seemed to have everything?

As she glances around and takes in the various trinkets that Peter collected, it hit her—

Music.

With a smile, she makes her plan.

* * *

"You're well aware that Terra is a forbidden place."

Gamora keeps her gaze level with Nova Prime, refusing to be denied this request. The conference room is filled with other members of the Nova Corps—most regard her with a kind gaze, but a few of the newer recruits are whispering, surely discussing why she is here if not to be arrested for her crimes against the galaxy—and at the head of the table, Nova Prime shakes her head and sighs softly.

"I ask for your aid, not because I require it," Gamora states bluntly. "But simply because it would make my journey easier."

"Such arrogance!" One of the Lieutenants mutters and she shoots him a sharp glare to silence him.

"And tell me again," Nova Prime leans forward; pushing away whatever paperwork she was looking at before Gamora requested this meeting. "Why do you wish to go to Terra?"

"I need something from there." She answers. "Something that I cannot find in any marketplace in the galaxy."

"And that item would be?" Nova Prime presses, her lips set in a tight line.

"I believe the Terran world for it is a 'music cassette'." Gamora replies, unsure of how to further explain what it is that Peter treasures beyond everything else.

"Do you know why Terra is forbidden?" Nova Prime rises from her chair, nodding at the other members of her council who quickly file out of the room. Soon, the conference room is empty, save Gamora and the leader of the Nova Corps.

"No."

"Terrans are quite strange creatures, Gamora." Nova Prime remarks, a hint of a grin on her lips. "They believe themselves to be superior than everyone and they seem to think—until recently, that is—that they are the only creatures in the universe worth noting."

"Yet, I know of people that have gone to Terra." Gamora points out. Yondu, being one of them, and whoever Peter's father was. She could easily get to Terra by herself, but it would take more planning than she had time for.

"Indeed." Nova Prime concedes. "Yet, they broke the law and should we ever catch them, they will be punished most severely."

Gamora rises from her seat, sighing.

"If you are not going to help me—"

"I never said that." Nova Prime interjects, waving her hand dismissively. "Sit, please."

She does so.

"We owe you a debt, Gamora." The Leader of Nova Corps states softly. "And if this is what you ask, then I shall help you."

Gamora can't help but allow the shock to grace her expression. She hadn't actually been expecting them to agree to her request. She'd been fully prepared to go to Yondu next and negotiate a deal with him that no doubt would've given her the short end of the stick.

"Truly?"

Nova Prime grins.

"Of course." She stands from her seat and motions for her to do the same. "Come with me, we haven't much time."

Gamora can't help but feel the tiniest bit elated.

* * *

The make-up sponge feels odd on her skin.

She watches with wide eyes, as her green skin becomes a normal Terran color. Her hair has been sprayed a plain black, which she finds a little bit disconcerting. Terrans are truly this dull?

"Why can I not simply use a holo-suit?" She asks Nova Prime, perplexed as to why this odd Terran make-up is being applied to cover up her natural green color.

"Holo-suits are too risky." Nova Prime dismisses with a shake of her head. "Terra's atmosphere might affect our technology and we wouldn't want to take that risk, especially with S.H.I.E.L.D. in such disarray."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Gamora echoes, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. "What is that?"

"It doesn't matter." Nova Prime quickly informs her. "I just don't want to take any unnecessary risks."

"Nova Prime." A younger worker stands in the doorway and bows quickly. "We've located the target."

"Good." Nova Prime nods her head in approval. "Program the coordinates so that we may send Gamora down there." Turning her gaze back to Gamora, she smiles softly as the last touches of the make-up are applied. "There. You look like a normal Terran."

She holds up a mirror and Gamora nearly does a double take. She doesn't recognize the young woman in the mirror. Her skin is a light brown and her hair a raven black. She blinks, now noticing that her irises are now a chocolate brown.

"I look . . ." Gamora's voice fades away as she touches her face gently, afraid to ruin anything.

"You will certainly turn a few heads down there." Nova Prime informs her with a hint of warmth in her voice. "But, do not initiate contact with anyone but the seller, is that understood?"

"Of course." Gamora nods her head, feeling relieved to snap back into taking orders.

"Now," She's handed a few pieces of green paper with a drawn picture of a Terran man on it. "This is Terran currency."

"It's quite fragile." The former assassin comments.

"Yes, another one of the Terran's quirks." Gamora rises from the chair and glances at the clothes she was wearing—an odd, rough material called "jeans" and a loose top that seemed to be too tight in the chest and too loose everywhere else. How did Terrans go through life with such ill-fitting clothing?

"Thank you for your assistance."

The gratitude seems to take Nova Prime off-guard, for it takes her a few seconds to reply,

"It's my pleasure."

Now, it was time to head to Terra.

* * *

The first thing that she notices on Terra is the ever-blue sky that seems to stretch on for what seems like forever. In the sky, white clouds lazily make their way towards parts unknown and the sun warms her skin. She could see why Peter treasures this planet for it is one of the most beautiful ones Gamora has ever seen. Every color is so bright and vibrant—the grass is the perfect shade of green and the houses are a pristine white—and as she slowly makes her way on the cement sidewalk and watches the odd "cars" drive along the road, she can't help but wonder why Peter hadn't wanted to return here.

She continues to walk until she reaches her target—a small market set up on the lawn of house. A sign denotes it as a "garage sale" whatever that means and as Gamora approaches, she is taken aback by the seller's warm smile. She's an older woman—about 65 Terran years, which is old for Terrans whose species aged quickly compared to most species of the universe—and as Gamora rummages through the boxes, she doesn't even feel the least bit uncomfortable by the woman's kind gaze.

"Can I help you, dear?" She asks and Gamora nods her head.

"I'm looking for a . . ." She hesitates, trying to recall what the word she's looking for is. "A music cassette?"

"Ah!" The woman's eyes light up with recognition. "You want to buy a tape?"

Gamora nods.

"Goodness, I didn't know people of your generation still listened to those." The former assassin nods her head though she has no idea what the woman is trying to say. "Let me just grab them." The woman turns to her left and begins to pull some trinkets out of the box. "Ah-ha!" Triumphantly, she hands Gamora an old, scratched tape that has clearly seen better days.

"Thank you."

"I must warn you," The woman lowers her voice conspiratorially. "I have no idea what music is on that tape."

"That won't be a problem." Gamora answers quickly, moving to hand her the money, but the woman waves her off.

"No charge, dear." The woman tells her with a grin. "You're honestly doing me a favor and I don't even know if it will play." Her eyes light up with amusement. "It wouldn't be right to charge you."

"Thank you." Gamora tells her, taken aback by this woman's kindness. "Truly."

"It's just a tape." The woman dismisses.

It isn't just a tape though, not to Peter. It's a relic of his culture, his last remaining tie to this planet that he lived on. The music on this tape—the songs that he'll learn and eventually sing off-key—they're what keeps him going through the rough times.

"All the same," Gamora replies. "Thank you."

She waves goodbye to the woman before heading back down the road and towards the beam of light that will take her back to the ship.

Taking one last look at Terra, Gamora smiles.

Maybe Peter hadn't been exaggerating when he called Terra "the best damn place to spend a day on".

* * *

The party for Peter does dissolve into chaos.

Drax is drunk and currently waxing lyrical about his numerous kills to anyone who will listen. Rocket is busy threatening to shoot everyone in the bar and Groot seems intent on talking him out of it.

Still . . . this is what she expects from her team and it brings her a sense of comfort.

"Enjoying your party?" She finds Peter outside the bar, leaning on a rail and clearly taking a moment for himself.

"Not as much as everyone else seems to." He confesses with a smirk. "You think they'll ban us from this bar too?"

Gamora comes to stand next to him, her shoulder touching his. Funny, a few weeks ago they stood in pretty much the exact same position and the thought of conversing with Peter, of touching him was downright appalling to him. Yet, here she is, initiating the contact and actually enjoying the closeness and bond between him and her.

"Who'll ban us?" She remarks, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. "We saved the universe."

He chuckles.

"If Rocket has his way, he'll probably blow it up."

A wave of nervousness suddenly surges through her system and she bites her lower lip, cursing herself for this sudden affliction. She has every right to give Peter a present—it is his birthday, after all—and she hopes, no she knows, he'll love it.

So, why is she frightened?

"Why did you not want to have a party?" She asks instead and he sighs softly before pulling away from the railing and running a hand through his hair.

"Birthdays . . ." He pauses, unsure of how to form his next thought into words. "They just remind me of my mom."

The admission stirs something within her that she'd been sure died so many years ago—the desire to comfort someone. Without taking a moment to second-guess herself, she places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, offering her support.

"I am . . ." She hesitates, unsure of what to say. "I am sorry for her passing."

Peter doesn't say anything for the longest time.

In the bar, she can hear Rocket shouting and Drax laughing in return. The music blasts and she wonders why she doesn't have the urge to dance to it, like she does with Peter's music. All music is, after all, just a rhythm with words thrown in. Yet, the music here lacks the emotion that Peter's did. Even though she could never understand what exactly the singers in Peter's music sang about—too many vague Terran references—she felt their passion when they sang.

They had heart, like Peter did.

"Thanks." He finally tells her, turning to her.

She summons up her courage and hands him the package, the paper a fiery red that she found in the Nova Corps storage room.

His eyes widen as he opens his mouth to speak, but she simply holds a hand up.

"Just open it."

He nods and she waits with baited breath as he opens the package.

"Holy shit." He breathes, glancing up from the tape to her and then back again. "Is this . . . Is this what I think it is?"

"Terran music." Gamora confirms, unable to keep a smile off her lips.

"But how did you . . ?" His voice fades, astonishment coloring his tone as he turns the tape over and over in his hand, as if he can't believe that he's actually holding it.

"Nova Corps owed me a favor."

He rewards her with the most dazzling smile she thinks she's ever seen.

"Gamora," He whispers, voice cracking as his eyes mist over. "Thank you."

She's about to reply when he pulls her to him and holds her in his warm arms. A hug—she hasn't had one in what feels like an eternity—and though the contact takes her a bit off-guard, she can't help but savor it. She has someone who cares about her—just her, not what horrible things she could do—and it makes her feel like maybe she has a chance at erasing some of her sins.

"You're welcome."

Slowly, she brings her arms up to encircle him, a rare display of trust for her.

They stay like that only for the briefest of seconds before he pulls back and begins to excitedly talk about what could possibly be on the tape, but it's enough for the realization to occur to her.

For in his arms, she's home.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks!_


	2. Song

_**Author's Note: **__Because you all asked so nicely, let's find out what's on that tape, shall we?_

* * *

"_But when the music started,_

_Something drew me to your side."_

—_Oscar Hammerstein, "Shall We Dance"_

* * *

She never realizes how nervous she is about what could possibly be on the tape until the next morning when Peter interrupts her morning training exercises. With a childish grin, he practically bounds into her room, his warm hand holding hers as he pulls her towards the old piece of machinery that plays the tapes.

"I figured since you got me this," He tells her with a smile that stirs something foreign and warm within her. "You should be the first to listen to it."

"Thank you, Peter." She replies, for she understands what these tapes mean to Peter and how much of a privilege it is to be here with him while he listens to the music for the first time. These songs are his last connection to his planet, after all. Though, she isn't sure why he refuses to go back. Perhaps, one day she will feel comfortable enough to pose that question. But for now, she'll settle for offering her quiet support.

"I can't wait to hear it!" He exclaims and it reminds her of children before they receive a present, the excitement rolls off of him in waves and she cannot suppress her own lips from twitching upwards in a small grin.

He pops open the machine and removes his own tape before placing it aside carefully. Then, with such a reverence that she has never seen before, he slowly inserts the tape she got him. It clicks and he beams as he pushes the machine close. He presses a few buttons before his finger hovers over the play button.

He's hesitating.

"Peter?" She questions softly, unsure of why he's stopping now.

"Sorry." He murmurs, voice heavy with something akin to grief. "Let's do this."

He presses play; Gamora holds her breath.

No sound emerges.

"What?" Peter mumbles, fiddling with a few buttons, but receiving the same result. Then, jerking the machine open, he pulls out the tape and flips it over. He blows into it a few times and then inserts it once more.

Still, no sound is heard.

"Huh." He mutters softly. Then, meeting her wide gaze, he plasters a grin on his lips. "It must be broken."

"What?" She echoes. "Broken? Are you sure?"

"Well, it won't play." He states frankly, running a hand through his hair. He opens the machine and removes the tape before placing it aside. "That's too bad." He sighs softly before turning to her.

"Peter, I must apologize—" She tells him quickly, the guilt consuming her as it surges through her system.

"No, it's fine." He waves her concern off. "It's the thought that counts, right?" He places a hand on her shoulder and she wishes she would stop smiling at her with that fake jovial expression on her face. She knows him better than that and can see through his guise.

"Surely, there can be something!" She exclaims, desperation tingeing her voice.

"It's okay, Gamora." He tells her, his eyes clouded with some unreadable emotion. "Thanks anyways."

He walks away without giving her so much as a moment to say anything else.

"But I . . ." Her voice falters and she picks up the tape and forces her grip to be gentle, though all she wants to do is break it. Peter had been so excited to receive this tape! She couldn't let him down like this.

She will fix it, simple as that.

The question is, how?

* * *

"Terran tech is primitive even now," Rocket practically groans as she watches him tinker on the tape. "And you expect me to get this ancient thing working again? Do I look like a friggin' miracle worker?"

"I am Groot." The little tree chirps from the workbench, tone disapproving.

"What do you mean, 'watch my tone'?" Rocket snaps. "It's easy for you! You don't have to fix this piece of junk—"

"Can you do it or not, Rocket?" Gamora interjects, keeping her voice calm. For all of his bluster, she knows Rocket does care about this team and if he did not understand the significance of this tape, he wouldn't have even taken it from her hands.

"I'll try." He grumbles, complaining under his breath as he tinkers with it and Gamora grins.

"I am Groot!" The tree exclaims, swaying happily.

Gamora just nods her head in agreement.

She knows how lucky she is to have a team like this.

* * *

"You wish for me to distract Peter?" Drax questions, as if he's unsure if he heard her request correctly.

"Yes." Gamora replies, nodding her head.

She's cornered the warrior in front of his room and he regards her with a perplexed expression. She suppresses the urge to roll her eyes and breathes in and out slowly, keeping her temper in check.

"Why?" Drax asks, confused.

"I need to check something." She replies vaguely. "It would be best if Peter is not here while I do that."

Drax's gaze narrows.

"You're not telling me the whole truth."

"No," She admits quietly. "Peter can . . ." She tries to think of a way to phrase this nicely. "He has a way of getting you to confess secrets."

"That only occurred twice!" He snaps and she winces at the tone of his voice. Then, sobering a bit, she can see him register her words. "Very well. I will keep him occupied for a bit of time."

Peter's footsteps echo in the hall and Gamora can't help but smirk as he rounds the corner, nearly about to plow into Drax.

"Whoa, Drax, buddy, what did we say about standing in—?" Seeing the mischievous glint in Gamora's eyes, he adds, "Did I miss something?"

"Battle practice!" Drax booms, dragging Peter towards the main hatch.

"Wait, what?" Peter echoes and Gamora can't help but chuckle a bit as she waits for the secure thud of the hatch.

She has a plan to put in motion, after all.

* * *

"I don't know if this will work." Rocket prefaces as he hands her the tape. "All I could do was clean it a bit."

"I thank you for your efforts." She says, smiling as she gently turns over the tape in her hand. She isn't sure what she's going to do if this doesn't work. She has hope, of course, but there's the nagging voice in the back of her head, warning her about the overwhelming possibility of failure.

"You going to do this then?" Rocket cuts into her thoughts.

"Yes."

She faces the machine and presses the buttons she's seen Peter do a thousand times before. It feels wrong, her doing this, because this machine is so much more to Peter than that. It's the last link he has to his home world, but also to his mother.

That's really why she needs this to work.

"Please." She breathes, unsure of what deity she's directing her plea to and frankly, not caring so long as it works.

She presses play and holds her breath.

And that's when the music begins to play.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, Drax." Peter moans as the hatch opens once more and Gamora does her best to remain stoic, so as to not give anything away. "Was throwing me around necessary?"

"Come now, Peter!" Drax laughs, voice booming. "Your combat has surely improved now!"

"I see you are still in one piece." Gamora comments softly and Peter chuckles dryly, stretching his arms up in the air before lowering them back to his side. "What have you been up to?"

She allows a small grin to alight on her face.

"What?" He asks, eyebrows drawn in confusion. Then, seeing her place standing by the machine, he glances at her and then back to the machine and back to her once more. His breath catches. "Did you—?"

She presses play.

_You put the boom-boom into my heart._

"No way." He breathes as the music plays. "No fucking way!" He's practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

_You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts._

_Jitterbug into my brain._

He's beaming and it reminds her of Earth's sun, the way he's practically glowing with happiness. He turns to her and without giving her a moment to react; his arms hoist her up into the air as he spins her around. She finds herself laughing like a child and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Drax taking in the scene with an amused expression.

"Gamora, thank you so much!" He shouts as he finally places her down on the ground, pulling her into a tight hug. "You're the best! I can't believe this!"

He rushes over to the machine and listens as the singer continues, eyes wide with awe.

"It would appear your mission has succeeded." Drax comments and Gamora nods her head.

This is exactly what she's wanted for so long—the chance to make someone else happy.

"Yes." She swallows against the emotion clogging her throat. "It would seem that way."

* * *

"Hey."

She glances up from her book and sees Peter standing in her doorway.

"Hello." She greets, placing the novel aside.

He shifts uneasily, as if he's unsure of how to voice what he's feeling right now.

"Look, Gamora, about the tape . . ." His voice fades and he forces himself to meet her gaze. "Thank you."

She just beams.

"Perhaps . . ." She's hesitant about voicing this request, unsure of how he will react. "Perhaps, there is something you could for me in return?"

"Anything." He assures her with a cocky grin that she's grown fond of.

"You told me once that the hero Kevin Bacon taught people about the wonders of dancing."

"Yeah?" It's clear he hasn't caught on yet.

"I would like to learn how to . . ." She coughs, feeling incredibly awkward.

"Oh." He catches on, eyes widening slightly. "You want to learn how to dance?"

"Yes."

It's a selfish request really, but living with Thanos, she never got to experience the joys of social interactions. Dances, she'd been told, were often the best places to meet other people. And seeing Peter dance had stirred that longing within her, that desire to know how to do something other than kill people.

A desire to be something other than a monster.

"Okay." He breathes and there's something unreadable in his eyes as he crosses to her and pulls her up from her chair. He places a hand on her waist and she feels vulnerable. She wants to break away—Thanos' voice warning her never to let her guard down filling her mind—but she forces herself to stay put.

"We're not moving." She comments softly and Peter laughs.

"I know." He glances at her hands. "Put your hands on my shoulders.

She does so and Peter begins to sway to the side.

"You have to move with me, Gamora." He chides softly and she quickly follows his lead.

They sway like that for a while, imaginary music filling the room. She feels safe in his arms and warmth fills her. She's unsure of what this feeling is, but it's clear to her in this moment, that she would do anything to protect this silly Terran. This human had somehow wormed his way into her heart and rather than registering how scary that is, she allows herself to savor this rare moment of peace.

"This is dancing?" She questions and Peter nods. "I . . . like it."

"Maybe next time, we can throw in some spins."

"Spins?" She echoes, somewhat alarmed and he chuckles at her face.

They continue in silence for a bit.

"I'm not the best dancer." He comments off-hand, as if he's trying to apologize.

"That makes two of us then." She remarks with a soft smile.

He leans in towards her and she finds herself thinking back to that night on the balcony where he had told her of Kevin Bacon, where he had tried to kiss her. Things had changed so much from then.

"Gamora, I—"

An alarm blares and the moment between them is shattered.

"Back to work." She states grimly.

There's always some crisis out there that needs their attention and though she's glad to be able to atone for the crimes she's committed while working for Thanos, she won't deny that the timing on this one couldn't have been worse.

"Thanks for the dance, Gamora."

Then, before she can even register his intent, he presses a quick kiss to her check before heading out of her room.

That's when it hits the deadly assassin—she's in love with him.

And it absolutely terrifies her.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__The song was "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" and I'll leave the rest of the songs on the tape up to your imagination. I might write one final chapter for this. We'll see. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


End file.
